


The Ghost Of You

by messandahalf



Category: Merlin (TV)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, Alternate Universe - Modern Setting, Angst with a Happy Ending, Emotional Baggage, Emotional Hurt/Comfort, Eventual Fluff, First Kiss, Getting Together, Hurt/Comfort, Implied Sexual Content, M/M, Mental Health Issues, Post-Canon, References to Depression, Reincarnation, Reunions
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-07-01
Updated: 2020-07-06
Packaged: 2021-03-05 05:48:01
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 6
Words: 17,688
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/25019533
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/messandahalf/pseuds/messandahalf
Summary: When Merlin starts seeing Arthur everywhere he goes, he thinks he’s finally gone mad. Arthur was never coming back. He had accepted that fact long ago.
Relationships: Merlin/Arthur Pendragon (Merlin)
Comments: 30
Kudos: 162





	1. Chapter 1

Merlin had waited for his King to return for many, many years. He had seen civilizations rise and fall. He had seen the world be plagued by evil. Watched as one disaster after another came and went, and still, Arthur never returned. Merlin had watched as man after man was crowned King, but he never felt any loyalty to any of them. He would only ever have one true King. And it seemed as if he was lost to him forever. The more time went by, the more his hope started to flag. His faith in Kilgharragh’s last words was beginning to diminish. Every day that went by without the return of his friend, was another day that the dark hole in his chest grew more and more prominent. Until one day, all that was left was that dark pit.

Merlin groans as his alarm blasts out through his bedroom. The sound is closely followed by the groaning hiss of his cat, Aithusa. It may not be the same as having a dragon around, but the stray kitten had all the personality that Aithusa once had. After one more sigh, Merlin reluctantly pulls an arm out of the warm cocoon of his blankets, and taps the screen of his phone blindly until blessed silence once again fills the room. Aithusa jumps from the bed and languidly stretches before trotting out the slightly cracked open door on silent feet. Merlin watches her go impassively.

The thought of work looms heavily on Merlin’s mind, so after another minute of laying in the warmth of his bed, he finally throws the covers back and slowly sits up. Now that he has the comfort of such a lovely bed, he can fully understand Arthur’s reluctance to get up in the morning all those centuries ago. His body tenses at the thoughts of his friend, and he quickly banishes all thoughts of the man from his mind. It did not do to dwell on impossible thoughts. He had learned at least that after all his time roaming the Earth.

After a quick stop in his meagre kitchen to feed Aithusa, he proceeds to the small bathroom to have a shower. He much preferred showers over baths. He forces his mind to go blank as he turns on the water to heat up, then proceeds to sluggishly strip his clothes off, leaving them in a heap on the floor. He sticks his hand under the spray to gauge the temperature, and satisfied, he steps fully under, pulling the shower curtain closed behind him.

Breathing a soft sigh, he tips his head back under the pouring water and closes his eyes. He tries to force his body to relax, but finds it difficult. He’s always so tense after thoughts of Arthur creep past his defences and take over his mind. Deeming it a lost cause, he reaches out and grabs his shampoo. Working a small amount into a bit of a lather in his hair, he once again tries to let his mind go blank. As he massages his scalp, however, he can’t help but get brief flashes of memory. His fingers working soap into soft, blond locks. He screws his eyes shut and grits his teeth as he rinses the shampoo from his hair.

The bar of lavender scented soap gliding over his skin makes similar memories rise up in his mind as well. Muscles shifting under skin as a body leans forward, allowing access to the broad expanse of a back. The feel of those tense muscles relaxing under the brush of soap and his fingertips. Merlin hurries to finish washing himself, desperate to escape the onslaught of memories that like to pop up out of nowhere from time to time. He has a sinking feeling that today is going to be a very tortuous day indeed.

After towelling himself off, he pulls a pair of skinny jeans over his legs. It’s a bit of a struggle, as his skin is still vaguely damp. He triumphs, however, and slips a soft tee shirt over his head, and opens the bathroom door. The steam built up inside immediately starts to drift out into the hall. Bending down, he scoops his old clothes up into his arms and takes them to the laundry hamper set in the corner of his room. A quick glance at his phone shows that his shower took longer than usual, and if he doesn’t hurry, he’ll be late for work. Cursing under his breath, he stuffs his phone into his jeans pocket and rushes from the room.

Aithusa peeks her head around the corner of the sofa as he’s pulling his trainers on. He gives her a small smile as he stands up straight and proceeds to shrug his jacket on. “Be good. I’ll be back after work.” He says before opening the door and slipping out.

The small café that Merlin works at isn’t very far from his flat, so Merlin walks, as he does every day. He had learned how to drive long ago, and even had his license, but had never bought a car of his own. He had stopped going to visit the Lake of Avalon, or what was left of it, long ago, so he saw no point in having a vehicle of his own. He didn’t mind walking everywhere. Without having a royal prat to run around after, this was the only way to really get exercise everyday. Going to the gym was just never something that had overly appealed to him. It just felt too... knightly for his taste.

The delicious smell of coffee greets him as he pushes the café doors open and steps inside. Coffee was definitely one of the things about this new world that Merlin truly loved. His co-worker, and best friend, Amelia looks up from her spot behind the counter and grins. Despite her milky white skin, and fiery red hair, the girl reminded him strongly of Gwen. She was very sweet, and Merlin had felt so immediately drawn to her upon first meeting her, that had he not met other _versions_ of his friends throughout the many years, he would have thought he was going crazy.

“Morning, Merlin!” She chirps cheerfully. The girl was definitely a morning person, something that, over time, Merlin had lost.

“Morning.” He says tiredly, giving her a small smile. She laughs, a gentle tinkling sound, and immediately goes about making him his usual coffee of choice. All the employees at _Impresso Espresso_ were allowed one free drink per shift. One of the things Merlin loved about working here.

Amelia slides the steaming to-go cup across the counter to Merlin as he takes his apron off the hook on the wall and puts it on. He gives her another wan smile as he ties the laces snugly around his waist before reaching out to wrap his fingers appreciatively around the cup’s warmth. She raises a rather pointed eyebrow, one to rival Gaius’s back in the day, as he raises the cup to his lips and takes a small, cautious sip. He stares back blankly, pretending that he doesn’t know what she wants.

Finally, she breaks and huffs in annoyance before asking, “What is up with you this morning? Rough night?” Her voice shifts to concern, and he feels a rush of affection for his friend. He had confided in her, a while back, about having vicious nightmares. He never told her in great detail about them, just that they were filled with loss, and pain, and grief. He never told her that he would sometimes wake up in the middle of the night, screaming Arthur’s name, but he did tell her that once he was awake, he very rarely ever got back to sleep again.

“No.” He replies, shaking his head. “Just feeling a little off, is all.” He isn’t lying. He had slept through the night, only being plagued by nightmarish memories once he was fully awake. Somehow, that was always worse. He grabs a cloth and wipes idly at the already clean counter to avoid looking into his friend’s concerned green eyes.

“Do you want to talk about it?” She asks gently, placing a reassuring hand on his shoulder. Merlin bites his lip and looks around at the empty shoppe. Eventually, he shakes his head _no_.

“No, but thank you.” He says quietly. “Just memories of an old friend.” He adds on vaguely. He chances a look at Amelia as he continues his mundane and unnecessary task. She’s watching him with _that look_. The one that screams _‘you’re not telling me something.’_ She isn’t wrong. There is a lot about his life that nobody else alive knows about. He can’t exactly go around telling people that he is _the_ Merlin from the Arthurian legends talked about in books. That he’s actually centuries old, and should, for all intents and purposes, be dead. That he actually does still have his magic, but has refused to use it for a very, very long time. If he ever told anyone the truth, all he would get is a one way ticket to a hospital.

He’s saved from further interrogation by a customer walking in. Amelia gives the woman a friendly smile, spewing out the usual company lines about the day’s specials. The woman orders a complicated latte, and as Amelia rings up the order on the till, Merlin busies himself making the drink. He actually enjoys these insufferable orders. They keep his mind busy, but also just always seem to fill him with a sense of familiarity.

“Here you go.” He says with a smile as he passes the drink over. The lady gives him a taut smile before grabbing it and walking out, answering her ringing cell on the way.

The rest of the day passes much the same. At the end of his shift, he pulls his apron off, mind already wandering to what he is going to have for dinner that night, when Amelia's hand on his forearm pulls him from his thoughts.

“Are you sure you’re okay, Merlin?” She asks. “You’ve just seemed really, I don’t know, subdued today.” She adds on, looking imploringly up into his face. He manages to give her a genuine smile.

“I’m fine, I promise.” He replies, wrapping his free hand around her wrist and squeezing. She offers up a weak smile of her own.

“You can come to mine tonight, if you don’t want to be alone.” She offers. He had gotten that offer many times, and taken her up on it on many occasions. They would watch sappy rom-cons on her sofa, and then he would slip into a dreamless sleep. Tonight, however, something was telling him to go home.

He gently shakes his head. “I’ll be okay tonight. I’ll be sure to text you if that changes, though.” He assures her. She nods and let’s him go. He pulls her into a brief hug before pulling his jacket on and stepping out into the soft drizzle of rain outside. So much for the promised _“beautiful day”_ they were supposed to have.

Merlin’s flat is quiet when he finally unlocks the door and steps inside. Not even Aithusa appears to say hello. Feeling a little damp and dejected, Merlin shrugs his wet coat off, hanging it to dry, and moving off to the kitchen. He’s just pulled a frozen microwave dinner out of his freezer, when he feels a sudden pulse run through his body.

Gasping, he drops the dinner back into the freezer and stumbles backwards. His back connects painfully with the counter behind him, but he barely notices it as the buzzing and thrumming in his veins continues to grow. It takes him a minute to realize that it’s his magic waking up and running rampant through his body. It had lain dormant for so long, he had almost forgotten what it felt like to have it coursing through his veins so insistently. He’s panting, gasping for breath, as one single through fills his mind. _‘Arthur.’_

Before he’s fully aware of what he’s doing, he rushing back to the door. He barely remembers to grab his soggy coat before he’s rushing outside. He thunders down the stairs to the main building entrance, and bursts outside, reaching up a hand to hail down a taxi. Thankfully, once quickly stops, and he practically falls inside. He pants out his destination breathlessly, and the driver takes off.

Merlin had settled close to where Avalon had once stood proud, but now had almost fully dried up. He tosses some money at the driver, probably way too much, and stumbles forward through the increasingly heavier rain. He barely registers the sound of the taxi leaving behind him, he is so intent on his destination. His heart is hammering in his chest as he gets closer, magic now roaring through his veins.

“Arthur?!” He yells as the pond that was once a magnificent lake finally comes into view. There’s no answer, so he continues to stumble forward. He blinks away the rain drops clinging to his eyelashes, and once again yells out, “Arthur!”

He reaches the edge of the meagre pool of water and turns in place, eyes scanning his surroundings desperately. There is no one in sight. _But there has to be._ He continues to walk around the pond, mind whirling too fast to keep track of. Why would his magic wake up, if Arthur had not returned? After two full circuits, he drops to his knees in the wet grass and bows his head. He was alone. There was no one else here.

His breathing is shaky and hurried, and he struggles to get it under control as he also tries to beat his magic back down into submission. It kept trying to flare back up, prickling hotly at his skin.

Finally, he loses his temper and yells, “Stop! He’s gone, and he’s never coming back. Just stop!” His voice is raw, and choked with emotion, but it seems to do the trick. For now, anyway. He chokes on a single sob before shakily getting to his feet and swiping a hand across his eyes. He turns his back on the pool of water, and resigns himself to a long walk back to his flat.

By the time he reaches the block that he lives on, he is thoroughly soaked down to the skin. He had started to shiver about fifteen minutes ago, and he has his arms wrapped miserably around himself. He looks up at the sound of a car horn, and his breath catches in his throat. Standing on the corner of the sidewalk ahead is a man, about his height, but broader in the shoulders. The glow of the headlights frames his golden hair in a halo of light.

The incoming car passes, and the man steps forward to cross the street. Merlin’s heart pounds as he jumps forward, running to catch up. “Hey, wait!” He calls.

Startled, the man pauses, and turns to look at him in confusion. Merlin’s cheeks heat and his stomach drops as he takes in the man’s unfamiliar face.

“Yes?” He calls back over the downpour, one eyebrow raised expectantly.

“Sorry, thought you were someone else.” Merlin replies, waving the man on uselessly. The man looks at him for a moment before shrugging and continuing on his way. Tears cloud Merlin’s vision as he turns back to his apartment building. He climbs the stairs to his flat, disappointment and bile burning his throat. He manages to hold back his explosion of emotions until he enters his flat, however.

Aithusa scurries off to hide as Merlin closes his door and presses his forehead to the cool wood, a choked off sob ripping its way out of his lungs. He had given up all hope of ever seeing Arthur again a very long time ago, but the pain of it all suddenly feels so fresh and new. He tries to take a few steadying breaths, but they all get caught in his throat.

Pushing away from the door, he stumbles blindly to the small living room. Flicking on the television, he sinks down onto the sofa and curls into a tight ball. He only half registers that his entire body is trembling violently. He tries his best to fight back the memories of his old life, but he loses the desperate battle, and gets swept under the waves of memories in his mind. He feels likes he’s drowning as he watches his life flash past his eyes. All his friends who are now long gone. He’s clenching and unclenching his fists as he remembers every minute he spent with Arthur. He passes out as he remembers watching the life leave Arthur’s eyes.


	2. Chapter 2

Merlin is jolted awake the next morning by Aithusa jumping on his chest and proceeding to knead his skin through his shirt. He groans softly and pushes her small body away, just enough that her claws let go. His heavy lidded eyes take in his small living room, and he realizes that he fell asleep on the sofa. His body protests that fact slightly as he sits up, one hand reaching up to rub at his throbbing head. His sofa may be more comfortable than some of the beds he had slept on over the years, but it definitely wasn’t what he was used to now, that’s for sure.

Aithusa mewls softly in his lap, looking up at him with big, sad eyes. He huffs a laugh, and sweeps her up in one hand, bringing her up to his face so he could nuzzle her soft fur. She struggles after a second, and he gently places her down on the floor. She immediately takes off for the kitchen. Clearly she had woken him up so he would feed her. He doesn’t follow her immediately, instead taking a moment to just sit and breathe, slowly trying to wake up.

There’s still a fire burning through his body, tingling and sparking in his fingertips. The events from the night before all rush back to the forefront of his mind, and he scrubs at his face while letting out a shaky exhale. There’s a feeling welling up in his stomach that he can’t place, and it makes his heart lurch in his chest. He squeezes his eyes shut and counts to ten before forcing his body up off the sofa. He tries his best to force his thoughts to go elsewhere as he follows Aithusa to the kitchen.

Her finds her sitting patiently by her bowl, and he can’t help but smile as he fills it with kibble, ruffling her head softly as she starts to eat. The time display on the microwave catches his eye as he straightens up, and he groans again. He’s pretty much late for work already. He rushes through getting dressed, throwing his clothes from yesterday in a haphazard pile on the floor to deal with later, and slips out the door, calling goodbyes to his cat as the door closes.

Hands stuffed in his still slightly damp coat’s pockets, he lowers his eyes and rushes along the streets toward the café. A sudden _tug_ in his chest makes him look up, confused. He glances around, unsure and wary about his magic suddenly pushing against his skin. His eyes flick over the faces of the strangers around him, but still for a moment and flick back as they pass a certain face.

“Arthur.” He breathes, quietly enough that no one around him hears. The last thing he needs is a repeat of last night, but with more witnesses. He shifts his eyes, trying to follow the blond hair moving through the crowd on the other side of the street. Merlin scrambles to follow, taking hurried steps to reach the crosswalk. He looks ahead for only a moment, checking to see how much traffic is approaching, and when he looks back, the man is gone. His eyes dart over the surrounding area frantically, but it’s no use.

Shoulders sagging, Merlin curses under his breath. Was it not torture enough that he had accepted his fate a long time ago? Did he really now have to hallucinate the appearance of his... well, he was never really sure what Arthur was to him. Friend, for sure. But maybe even back then, he had always hoped and longed for more. His chest squeezes painfully at the thoughts, and he turns away, determined to just get to the café. He stubbornly keeps his eyes downcast the rest of the way, not wanting to chance seeing Arthur again. Not that it really mattered. That insistent _tug_ never showed itself again, and for that, he was grateful.

Amelia is already sliding a cup his way when he stumbles through the doors. He smiles, or at least tries to, gratefully as he makes his way behind the counter. Hanging his jacket up, he slips his apron on, then takes his cup of coffee and takes a long drink. His brain feels fuzzy and sluggish, but also overwhelmed. When he finally looks up again, Amelia is looking at him with concerned eyes.

“Merlin, you look paler than anything. What happened? And please don’t say nothing, cause I know that’s a lie.” She says, eyes quickly flicking over the empty tables around them before settling determinedly on his face.

Merlin signs, shoulders slumping slightly with defeat. There was really no way to tell her what was actually going on, and he felt way too exhausted to think of a good enough lie to convince her. In the end, he settles for a very vague, “I thought I saw an old friend, but it turned out I was wrong.”

“Oh, Merlin.” She says softly, reaching up to fix a wayward lock of his hair. “That would explain why you’re white as a sheet. You look like you’ve seen a ghost.” She muses, lowering her hand to squeeze his shoulder. She gestures to the coffee clutched in Merlin’s hand, thankfully missing the way he flinches at the word _ghost_.

Vivid memories flash through his mind of the ghost of Uther Pendragon wrecking havoc on the castle. For a brief moment, he contemplates the possibility of him seeing _Arthur’s_ ghost, but brushes it aside dismissively almost too quickly. There had been very specific circumstances surrounding the rise of Uther’s ghost. Very specific circumstances that he is quite sure had not been repeated ever since. No, it was surely just his mind playing tricks on him.

He startles as the bell above the door rings, a young woman with a toddler in tow walking up to the counter with an exhausted smile. Amelia once again covers the till while Merlin tries to lose himself in filling the order. However, he can’t quite banish the sight of Arthur’s face from earlier from his mind. It _had_ been him, unlike the man from the previous night. The same eyes, the same nose, the same chiselled jaw. The shock of blond hair atop his head had basically glowed golden in the sunlight. The only thing that was different from the King he remembered was his attire. Instead of chainmail and armour, he had worn loose blue jeans and a baggy pullover hoodie. It _had_ been Arthur, and yet, it hadn't been. It couldn’t have been.

Merlin hands over the latte with a distracted smile. The mother thanks him, and turns to leave. Just before they exit the shoppe, however, the little boy at her side turns back and smiles toothily at him. Or, gummily. Whatever. Merlin gives a startled smile back, even returning the small boy’s wave. A startling wave of familiarly overwhelms him, and he studies the boy for a moment, wondering which one of his friends this small boy would grow up to be. He watches almost wistfully as the pair push out the doors and disappear down the street. He has to give himself a shake before he can return to nursing his own cup of coffee.

He muses over his crazy life as he wipes down the cappuccino machine, then the counter. How many people could say that they truly believed in reincarnation? No one alive would have been able to witness it happen to other people. As he moves to clear away ceramic mugs from tables, and wipe away crumbs, he wonders if maybe Arthur was out there, only wearing a different face. Maybe Kilgharrah had once again been speaking in riddles when they last spoke, and Arthur hadn’t been _resurrected_ , but rather had been _reincarnated_ like everyone else. The thought makes him oddly melancholy, and he pushes it aside. True, he would accept his King back with loving arms no matter what form he was in, but he missed _Arthur_. Everything about him.

He sighs and carries his collection of used mugs back to the sink behind the counter. He thinks back on the boy and wonders if maybe _he_ had been Arthur. But no, that didn’t seem possible. Yes, Merlin had felt that wave of familiarity crash over him, but it had been the same one he had felt over the years whenever he re-met his old friends. Somehow, he just _knew_ that meeting Arthur again would feel different. It would feel more significant. He remembers that sharp tug in his chest that morning, and falters, nearly dropping a couple of the mugs. That had been different.

His pulse quickens, and he has to consciously will it to slow down. He was getting too far into his head. If Arthur was going to return, in any way, he would have by now. He had met all his other friends from Camelot several times over, had even run into a lady once that had his magic hissing the name _Morgana._ If even she had come back already, surely Arthur would have too. Angry tears blur his vision, and he blinks them back with frustration. Damn his magic for waking up after so long. What was its purpose this time?

He can feel Amelia's concerned gaze hot on his back, but he steadfastly ignores it, filling the sink with hot, soapy water to wash the mugs instead. He really doesn’t want to have to try and answer any difficult and loaded questions right now. His nerves are too frayed to handle that onslaught. His friend seems to be able to read that from the tense line of his shoulders, and keeps her silence. He’ll be pestered for more information eventually, but for now, he at least has the chance to get his wild emotions under his control again. He will hopefully have time to think of something convincing enough to tell her that will satisfy her insatiable curiosity.

He forces his mind to focus on work as best he can for the remainder of his shift. He vehemently curses the small spark of hope in his chest that ignites every tine the bell above the door rings, signalling a new customer. Why his subconscious is secretly expecting Arthur to suddenly parade in through the door is honestly beyond him. Still, he flinches every time he looks up, only to be met with unfamiliar faces. It doesn’t help that Amelia's concern seems to grow each time a customer gets their drink and leaves.

It’s almost time for Merlin to call it a day when it happens. He’s clearing a table along the long windows of the front of the café, and just happens to look up when he catches movement out of the corner of his eyes. His body freezes as his eyes meet very familiar blue ones. The grip he had on the mug loosens, and it falls to the tiled floor with a crash, but he barely even hears it. His blood is roaring in his ears as Arthur looks away and continues on his path past the shoppe. Before Merlin even fully registers what happened, his feet are propelling him toward the door. Amelia’s calls of his name follow him outside as he bursts out into the rare rays of sunshine.

He turns left as soon as his feet hit the pavement of the sidewalk, and he takes several long steps before faltering. There’s no one there. Merlin frantically runs forward a few more steps, looking around, even across the street, but he has vanished into thin air. Perhaps he needed to rethink his stance on the whole _‘Arthur back as a ghost’_ theory.

“Merlin?” He startles violently at the sound of his name. Turning back, he meets Amelia’s very worried eyes. She’s leaning out the door of the café, holding onto the handle to steady herself.

Merlin can’t help himself, he blurts out, “Did you see him? The blond man that just walked past?” He desperately needs Amelia to say _yes_. To prove that he isn’t going crazy.

“Merlin, a lot of people have walked by. I don’t really pay attention to them unless they come in.” She says apologetically. “Why, did you know him?”

Merlin bites his lip uncertainly, glancing over his shoulder one more time. There is no blond halo of hair in sight. That same bone deep pain from this morning fills him up again, and he feels like he might break apart right there on the sidewalk. After a few semi-successful calming breaths, he makes his way back to the café on shaky legs. Amelia promptly pulls him into a warm hug once the glass door closes behind them.

“Merlin?” She whispers. “What’s going on?” She pulls away, and she just looks so desperate to understand, that Merlin decides to just tell her. At least a little bit.

“When I was younger, I had a very close friend. His name was Arthur.” He starts after a brief pause to collect his scrambled thoughts. “I lost him a long time ago, and I had kind of come to terms recently that he was never going to come back.” He has to stop to swallow thickly around the pain clogging up his throat.

Amelia gently brushes a hand down his arm soothingly. “And now he’s back?” She guesses. Merlin shrugs.

“That’s just it, though.” He says.”I don’t know. I keep seeing him, or I think I do, but when I try to go after him, he’s just gone. Or it’s not actually him at all.”

Amelia is looking at him strangely, and he can’t quite place it. He’s too weary to try. Instead he merely shrugs again, and steps further into the café. His heart is still pounding, his magic singing in his veins at the eye contact he _knew_ he had held with Arthur. But where had he gone? Real people, alive people, don’t just vanish into thin air like that.

Amelia follows him back to the counter. “How did you lose him?” She asks. “Like, did you have a falling out? Did you simply move away and lose contact?”

Merlin fumbles stupidly in his head for a plausible explanation. He can’t really tell her, _‘Oh, no, he died, centuries ago, and I’ve just been waiting for him to return, as was prophecized. A dragon told me so.’_ He winces slightly and looks back at her. “Something like that, yeah.”

Amelia chews on her lip and nods. If only things were actually that simple. Merlin sometimes thinks that having magic back in Camelot was almost sometimes easier than the life he currently had now. On one hand, there was very little chance that he would be publicly burned to death, but on the other, he was very lonely. He may have met his friends again over the years, like Amelia or his friend Derek who he swears must be Gwaine, but he still has so many secrets. He never gets to share his multiple layers of profound life experience and pain with anyone. Who would believe him anyway? He would he brushed aside as delusional.

The rest of his shift thankfully passes by uneventfully. Amelia catches his arm yet again before he has the chance to leave. When Merlin looks up to meet her eyes, he finds her expression serious and intense. He raises his eyebrows in silent question.

“If you ever need to talk, Merlin, I’m always here. No matter what, no matter how crazy you think you might be. Okay? You look really shaken up, and no one should have to deal with that on their own.” She says earnestly. His eyes fill with tears, and for a brief moment, he almost blurts it all out. The overwhelming need to just have someone else know, to just have someone listen and acknowledge what he’s been through. But he stops himself.

Instead, he gives her a weak smile. “Thank you, but I’m okay. I probably just need a proper night’s sleep. In my actual bed instead of on my sofa.” He doesn’t even sound convincing to his own ears, but Amelia still smiles sadly and nods.

“Okay, well text me if you need anything. I can bring over a bottle of wine or something.” She offers. Merlin’s smile grows a little more, and he pulls her into a hug. He missed Gwen terribly, but it was times like this that he truly felt her there with him. He’d never truly know what he had done to have Amelia come into his life.

After a final goodbye, Merlin pulls away and leaves the café. Before heading for home, he casts one last glance over his shoulder in the direction that he swore he saw Arthur going earlier. The sidewalk is busy, but not overly crowded. Not a single blond head is in sight. He heaves a sad, heavy sigh, and ducks his head, not wanting to see the people he’s passing as he heads for home. He swears that he can feel eyes on him as he goes, but his magic isn’t making its presence obscenely known, so he brushes the feeling aside as something akin to paranoia, and keeps going.

Aithusa meets his sedately at the door, giving him a perfunctory hello before swishing back into the flat. Merlin follows, muscles suddenly feeling like lead. He barely has the energy to feed his cat, let alone feed himself, so after dumping a scoop of kibble into Aithusa’s bowl, he slumps his way toward his bedroom, just wanting and craving unconsciousness.

Leaving the light off, he falls onto his bed, fully clothed, and curls into a ball. Aithusa follows him curiously, jumping up onto the bed to sniff his face. He reaches out and scoops her into a hug, holding her close to his chest. She goes willingly, purring happily in his arms. He buries his face in her fur as best he can, and just breathes.

“God, Aithusa, what’s happening to me?” He whispers brokenly into the room as his magic restarts its happy buzzing through his muscles. Aithusa meows faintly in response, head butting him on the chin. He sighs, sniffling slightly, and closes his eyes. There had to be a reason for everything that was happening. His magic suddenly awakening, his seeing and almost _feeling_ Arthur everywhere he went. Could he really only just be completely losing it, after all these years?


	3. Chapter 3

It had been five days since Merlin’s magic woke up, and they had been five of the worst days that he’d had in a while. Everywhere he went, he saw Arthur. On his way to work, at the grocery store, at the pet store when he went to get Aithusa more food. He always looked the same, always wearing the same clothes. The only thing that changed was how he was somehow looking more haggard with each passing day. A ghost couldn’t look tired, so Merlin was once again at a loss. All he knew, was that with each passing encounter, he was feeling more and more sick.

Amelia thankfully hadn’t asked any more questions, but she kept looking at him with growing worry in her eyes. Merlin hadn’t been late to work again, but he was listless. He wasn’t sleeping well, his nightmares had come back with a ferocious vengeance, and so he actually did his best to avoid sleeping. There were only so many times that he could relive Arthur dying in his arms. The effects of his lack of sleep were growing steadily more obvious.

He avoided looking out the windows at the café as much as possible, always doing his best to keep his back to them when he was clearing tables. When he was out of his flat, he did his best to keep his eyes down, only looking up from time to time when it was necessary to see where he was going. His magic would regularly flare up whenever he was out and about, but he did his best to ignore it. Sometimes, it almost burned so insistently that he _had_ to look, and Arthur would always be there. He stopped calling his name, or trying to go after him. It was never any good.

It was his last day at work before he had three glorious days off, and he was torn about how to spend his night. Both Amelia, who also had the next day off, and Derek, whom he had been texting all day, were in agreement that he needed to go out and let loose. Do something to take his mind off the sudden arrival of his old friend. Merlin isn’t truly convinced that it’s a good idea. What if Arthur shows up at the gay club that Derek is insisting they go to? His phone buzzes in his pocket, and he rolls his eyes before stealthily pulling it from his pocket.

 **_From: Derek, 3:13 PM  
_ ** _Come on, mate. A night out and a lot of beer will do you good, I promise. Maybe you’ll even find someone else to take your mind off this Arthur character ;)  
_

Merlin groans and stuffs his phone in his pocket, text unanswered. He had no desire to have a one night stand just to temporarily forget about Arthur. If he was going to be honest, other than Freya, he had never actually wanted anyone other than Arthur. He had just never let himself accept that fact back when they were all together. Having magic had been bad enough. Harbouring a secret love for the King? Out of the question.

Amelia sidles up beside him. “So, what’s the verdict tonight? I’ll go with you to save you from anything horrible Derek may try to do.” She says, wrinkling her nose slightly. Merlin can’t help but bark out a laugh. The two of them got along decently enough, but Amelia and Derek would never be the best of friends.

“I don’t know.” He replies. He had spent nearly a week avoiding being out in public too much. It had become a habit very quickly, and he was finding himself reluctant to break it.

Amelia nudges his arm with hers. “Come on, it’ll be good for you.” She says. “Take your mind off everything.” She adds, trying to sound persuasive. Still, Merlin chews on his lip uncertainly.

“I don’t know if it’s such a good idea.” He says hesitantly. “What if I run into Arthur? Or think I do?” He asks, almost despondently.

Amelia soothes a hand down his upper arm. “Then you talk to him if you can. Ignore him if you can’t.” She says simply. If only it were actually that simple. The thought of ignoring Arthur drives a stake through his heart. He’d never been able to ignore the prat, not even when they first met.

He brushes those thoughts away hurriedly, and gives Amelia a weak smile. “Maybe.”

She smiles like she’s already won, and turns to return to the counter. Maybe she _has_ already won. Maybe if he goes out with other people, Arthur will stay away. Maybe all he had to do all along was surround himself with the friends the has now. Pulling his phone back out, he shots Derek a quick reply.

 _**To: Derek, 3:21 PM.  
** _ _Okay, fine. What time?_

The device buzzes in his hand before he can even sneakily slip it back into his pocket.

 _**From: Derek, 3:21 PM  
** _ _I’ll meet you at your flat at nine ;)_

A feeling of something that Merlin might go so far as to label as dead fills his gut for a moment. He trusts Derek, just as he trusted Gwaine, but the man had a certain reputation. He liked to drink, and he liked to hook up with anything that gave him doe eyes, gender be damned. He had even tried to pick Merlin up a few times when they first met. Merlin had always stubbornly turned him down.

“Be at my place at nine!” He calls to his friend at the till as he stuffs his phone back into his pocket. Amelia squeals with excitement, and nods her head vigorously. Merlin can already almost feel the alcohol-induced headache coming on, and silently prays to whoever is listening that he didn’t just make a huge mistake.

By the end of their shift, Amelia is practically bouncing up and down with excitement. As they step out the doors, she informs him, “I’m going to swing by my flat to change and grab a bottle of wine, and then I’ll head right over to yours. We may as well get the party started sooner rather than later.”

Merlin nods and watches her bounce away, red braids bobbing in time with her excited steps. He sighs and takes his usual stance of head down and hands in his pockets as he heads the opposite direction to his place. He can once again feel eyes on his as he manoeuvres along the slightly crowded streets, but resists the urge to look around. He holds his breath until he’s safely inside his flat, back pressed against the closed door.

He takes a couple deep breaths to settle his racing heart before stepping further into his flat. As usual, he stops first in the kitchen to feed Aithusa, who had only briefly lifted her head from the arm of the sofa to blink blearily in welcome, before resuming her nap. He then moves on to his room, pulling out the black skinny jeans that Amelia had ordered him to wear tonight, on account that they _‘make his arse look great.’_ He also pulls out a plain white tee, made from ridiculously soft material that reminded Merlin so much of the fabric of royalty back in Camelot. He changes quickly, unsure how long it’ll take Amelia to get here.

She shows up about twenty minutes later, with two bottles of wine and a hot pizza. Merlin grins as he lets her in. “Have I ever told you that you’re the absolute best?”

Amelia grins as she kicks her trainers off. “No, I don’t think you have. But thank you.” She replies cheekily. “You look hot, by the way. If I didn’t like girls, I’d definitely try to take your mind off this Arthur bloke.” She adds on with a wink. Merlin ducks his head to hide his blushing cheeks.

The platonic flirty banter stops as they both walk into Merlin’s kitchen. Merlin pulls plates from the cupboard as Amelia grabs wine glasses and removes the corks from both bottles. As Merlin dishes out pizza, pepperoni, Amelia fills both glasses to almost over-flowing. Merlin looks at them with a raised eyebrow, and laughs at Amelia’s innocent shrug.

“I want these both gone by the time Derek arrives.” She says. “You know he’ll just try to hog them all to himself.” She states matter-of-factly. Merlin can’t really disagree. He isn’t sure how he’s going to handle drinking basically an entire bottle of wine himself. He always has been an utter lightweight. That is one thing about him that has certainly not changed. Still, he raises his glass to Amelia’s mock toast and vows to try his best.

His best is clearly still rubbish. By the time Derek arrives at ten after nine, both bottles of wine are indeed gone, and Merlin is a giggly heap on the floor, who has almost called Amelia _‘Gwen’_ on three separate occasions. When Amelia lets Derek into the flat sheepishly, he immediately pouts.

“Got started without me? I take it you didn’t save me any?” He asks, pretending to be profoundly hurt, but unable to truly hide the twinkle in his eyes as he looks over his friend sprawled on the living room floor. Aithusa is perched on Merlin’s chest like a noble sentry, which just makes Merlin snort and giggle more.

“‘Kay, ‘Thusa. ‘S time to geh up.” He slurs slightly, dislodging the cat as he tries to get to his feet. In the end, Derek takes pity on him and grabs a flailing hand to help haul him up. Merlin gives him a large, goofy grin, slurring out something that’s supposed to be a _‘thank you.’_ When neither of his friends make a move to leave, he cocks a quizzical eyebrow. “We goin’, ‘r not?”

His friends share an amused grin at his expense, but nod. “Absolutely.” Derek grins, reaching out to place a steadying hand on Merlin’s back and pushing him to the door. Merlin catches sight of Amelia rolling her eyes fondly as he steps through the door, and snorts out a laugh.

“Every time we drink, I am astounded at how much of a lightweight he is.” Derek says to Amelia as she takes Merlin’s key from his pocket and locks up. She looks at Derek with an amused look.

“Yes. It almost makes him seem younger than he is. More innocent.” She replies with a soft laugh. She’s just happy to see Merlin smiling so carefree again. He’s looked so haunted these past few days. Moreso than usual, anyway.

The walk to the club is a short one, and even in his inebriated state, Merlin is relieved that he doesn’t catch sight of Arthur once. Maybe his theory will prove correct, and as long as he sticks to Derek and Amelia tonight, he’ll be okay. He can hope, anyway. He isn’t entirely sure what his magic would do in his drunken state, and he isn’t too eager to find out.

He gets a few dubious looks as he quite literally stumbles through the doorway, Derek reaching out a hand to steady him. He shoots the bartender a grin and thinks he hears Derek say something about how he isn’t drunk, just really clumsy. Merlin muses over the fact that he isn’t exactly wrong as Amelia leads him to a booth along the wall as Derek peels off to go grab them some pints. Merlin settles into the booth, humming contentedly. He raises an eyebrow when he catches sight of Amelia’s soft smile pointed in his direction.

Amelia huffs out a fond laugh before saying, “Nothing. It’s just nice to see you so relaxed. I’ve been so worried about you this past week.”

Merlin can feel his thoughts sobering, shifting back to Arthur, and he struggles to redirect them. Some part of him is scared that if he thinks about Arthur too much, he’ll suddenly appear again. He really, really doesn’t want to deal with that tonight. He forces a smile onto his lips and reaches out to reassuringly squeeze her hands.

“Don’t worry about me. I’m fine. Besides, tonight is supposed to be about having fun, so let’s forget these last few days, yeah?” He says, doing his best to sound as convincing as possible. Amelia smiles and nods, pulling her hands back as Derek plops down beside Merlin, passing glasses around.

“Cheers!” He says loudly, lifting his glass. Merlin grabs his and taps his glass to Derek’s, then Amelia’s, then takes a long, long drink. He drains a third of the glass, and when he sets it down, he’s met with two sets of highly amused eyes.

“What?” He asks defensively. “I thought I was supposed to be letting loose?” He punctuates his question with a hiccup, and Derek laughs as he pats Merlin on the back heartily.

“That you are, Merls. Drink up, there’s plenty more where that came from.” Derek says, lifting his own glass to his lips and chugging the rest of it down. Merlin laughs and follows suit, cheering as Derek makes a show of getting to his feet and swiping both glasses off the table to go get a refill for them both. Amelia laughs fondly from her spot across the table, and takes a much smaller sip from her own glass.

Merlin looks around the already crowded club with a small smile. He had never outright told Derek exactly how he identified sexually, so he finds it almost endearing that he automatically took him here. Merlin wasn’t even entirely sure himself what his sexuality was. All he knew, with growing certainty, was that he had loved Arthur with all his heart. In every way possible.

He’s pulled from his thoughts by the reappearance of Derek, and a new pint being set down in front of him. He shoots his friend a grateful smile, and lifts the glass to take a drink. He pauses, however, when he feels Amelia’s hand settle on his wrist. When he looks up, she’s looking back with a serious intensity.

“Take this one easy, yeah?” She asks. He grins back and nods obediently.

“Alright.” He replies, voice thick with alcohol already. Amelia’s grin turns mischievous.

“After you’re done that one, we’re going dancing. I won’t take no for an answer.” She declares, meeting Merlin’s eyes sternly, before looking over at Derek. “You, too.” She announces, and Derek merely laughs. Merlin gives him a pained look, silently asking for help, but finding none. Merlin had discovered a while ago that when it came to dancing, he unfortunately had two left feet. He glances over at the dance floor, at the crowd of bodies already crushed together and somehow gracefully gyrating to the thumping bass around them, and swallows thickly. He really is doomed.

Sure enough, as soon as all three pint glasses are sitting empty on the table, Amelia slides out from her side of the booth and pulls both men with her. Merlin stumbles slightly on his way out, catching himself on Derek’s shoulder. He gets a devilish grin in return, and then he has two arms wrapping around his shoulders and leading him to the middle of the dance floor.

Bodies press in around him from all sides, but Amelia stays right in front of him, Derek off to his right. Awkwardly, he tries to mirror the movements around him, stumbling slightly from time to time. Amelia laughs and grips his hands in hers, swaying them back and forth between them. Slowly, Merlin feels himself relax, and his movements become less stilted.

He feels a hand brush his hip from behind, and he tenses up for a moment. However, he relaxes quite quickly when he feels his magic practically start to purr. He exhales softly when another hand rests lightly on his other hip, a firm chest pressing up against his back. He isn’t entirely sure why, but he melts back into the embrace, leaning heavily on whoever is grinding up against him from behind. He even goes so far as to let his head fall back, resting on the stranger’s shoulder. A pair of warm, slightly chapped lips make contact with the pale skin of his neck, and he almost moans out loud. Instead, he tilts his head to the side, giving whoever this is more access to his throat. He takes a deep breath in through his nose, readying himself to turn around and find out who this is, and that’s when his body freezes.

The faint hint of alcohol and sweat mixes perfectly with the aroma of leather and metal, with a hint of lavender. He’d recognize that mix of smells anywhere. He lurches forward, straight into a rather stunned Amelia, ripping himself out of the man’s embrace.

“Are you okay?” Amelia yells over the loud music, searching his shocked eyes with no small amount of concern. He feels frozen, utterly paralyzed. He doesn’t remember how to even form words to answer her. His brain is yelling at him to _turn around_ , but he can’t seem to make his muscles cooperate and do a he says. He involuntarily flinches when Derek’s face appears beside Amelia’s in his line of vision.

“Merls?” He calls, brow creased with worry. His hand reaching up to touch Merlin’s shoulder seems to break whatever trance he had fallen into.

Whirling around, he scans the dance floor, but doesn’t see _him_. He starts pushing his way off the dance floor, shouting half-hearted apologies as he goes. When he finally get out of the crowd, he practically runs for the exit. He scans the rest of the bar, what he can see if it, as he goes. When he doesn’t spot any familiar blond heads, he bursts outside.

“Arthur!” He yells into the dark street. A few people walking by give him funny looks, but keep going. Merlin looks up and down the street, but he doesn’t see him. Staggering forward, more out of shock than alcohol consumption (in fact, he feels quite sober now), he heads to the right to look down the alley beside the club. It’s dark between the buildings, but light enough to make out that it’s deserted.

“Arthur.” He wheezes, stumbling further into the dark alley, and leaning heavily onto his knees. His head is swimming, and he promptly heaves, stomach churning violently over and over again until he vomits on the pavement. An intense shivering wracks his body just as he hears his friends burst out of the club behind him. He doesn’t answer their calls of his name, just lets himself get swept under the wave of intense emotions threatening to tear him apart. He hears a cracked, raw sob echo throughout the alley, and is only vaguely aware that it’s coming from his own throat. Two pairs of hands reach out to try and comfort him, but all he can feel is a pair of chapped lips searing into his skin.


	4. Chapter 4

Amelia and Derek decide to call it a night, helping a still shivering Merlin back to his flat. He was done crying, had cried himself hoarse, so he just stumbled along numbly between them, alternating between leaning heavily on Derek and then Amelia and back for support. He misses their worried glances exchanged over his sagging head, their lips bitten in concern and brows furrowed. They have no idea what happened, or how to help, and Merlin has no real way of explaining it to them. Least of all now, when his mind has gone blessedly blank.

He trips up the stairs, having to be saved on a couple occasions from face planting gloriously into the metal edged steps. Amelia pulls his key from her pocket, having kept it from earlier, and unlocks his flat with shaking hands. Derek takes Merlin’s full weight on his shoulders, and carefully leads them inside. Amelia quietly closes and locks the door behind them. Derek deposits Merlin onto the sofa, and shares an uncertain look with the red head.

“Should one of us stay with him?” He asks. Amelia chews her lip and shrugs helplessly.

“I don’t know.” She replies, eyes going back to take in Merlin staring sightlessly at the dark television screen. “I’ve never seen him like this before. He’s been distant and off all week, but nothing like this.”

Derek nods, shifting his eyes back to their friend as well. “That man at the club. Was that Arthur, then?” He asks.

Amelia shrugs as she replies, “I don’t know. Merlin’s never really told me in great detail much about Arthur. It would make sense though.”

Merlin stirs at the sound of Arthur’s name, his magic prickling at his skin. His eyes clear minutely as he looks first at Derek, then at Amelia. The woman takes a tentative step closer, settling a hand on his still trembling shoulder. He looks at it blankly, but his eyes remain just that little bit more focused. It gives his friends hope that maybe he’s more okay than they had feared.

“Merlin?” Amelia says softly. “Are you okay?” Merlin lifts his eyes to meet the green ones of his friend, and blinks a few times. He swallows thickly. His tongue feels entirely too large for his mouth.

“Yeah.” He finally croaks, and Derek and Amelia both relax a little more. At least Merlin is finally speaking again. Their relief falls a little flat when Merlin shakes his head and mumbles, “No. I don’t know.”

Amelia shares a brief look with Derek before settling on the sofa next to Merlin. He doesn’t move. “You should get some rest. Would you like one of us to stay here with you?”

Merlin contemplates that question as best as he can in his current state. His brain is starting to feel fuzzy and full of cobwebs again. He knows that he doesn’t necessarily want to be alone right now, but he also knows that his friends are better off being far away from him right now. He can feel his magic roiling unhappily inside him, and he doesn’t know how much longer he can deny it. It wants, _needs_ , to be let out, and he can’t have witnesses when he does so. He can’t risk them accidentally getting hurt. Mind made up, he shakes his head again.

“No, I’m okay. I just need to sleep this off.” He lies. He has no intention of falling into his bed yet. Amelia studies him intently, scrtucinzing him as if she can sense his lie, but finally nods.

“Okay. Well, text us if you need anything, all right? I don’t like the idea of leaving you alone here after what happened.” She says. Merlin smiles wanly at her concern. She doesn’t even really know what happened and she’s still concerned for him.

Reaching out to squeeze her hand, he says, “I will. Thank you. You’re a good friend.” Turning to Derek, he adds, “Both of you.” Derek offers a thin, worried smile in return.

After a few more minutes, and several more assurances, his friends finally leave his flat, and Merlin finds himself standing in front of the closed door, breathing hard. He can feel his magic pushing at him, harder now that he is finally alone. It’s almost whispering to him, urging him to leave. To move. To walk out the door and return to the place that this all started.

Gritting his teeth, he wrenches himself backwards, staggering back to the sofa, and melting into the cushions. He buries his head in his hands and continues to pant heavily. Why? Why is there something telling him to go back there? Wasn’t once enough? Why return to the place that will only make his pain that much worse? His magic writhes inside his chest, and he knows that he can only hold on for so long. For some reason, unbeknownst to him, something wants him to return to the Lake of Avalon, and... what? Beg? Plead? Offer himself up?

Merlin loses track of time, but the next thing he knows, he is unsteadily getting to his feet and making his way back to the door. His trainers are still tied tightly on his feet, so he just shrugs his coat on before he can step out of his flat. The minute the door is closed and locked behind him, his magic starts to soothe. Once he’s outside, it has stopped rolling in his gut and is now politely urging him forward. He does as it wants, letting his feet lead him wherever they want.

The walk is long, and slightly eery. Once he is past the limits of the city, a shroud of darkness descends fully upon him, bringing with it a chill to the air. He shivers slightly, but he’s not entirely convinced that it’s because of the cold. He passes a few houses along the way, country homes with dark windows. What’s left of the Lake is far from as secluded as it once was. However, he has faith that should he let his magic free along the water’s edge, he should remain undetected. He breathes a weary sigh of relief as his feet turn off from the road and lead him into the stands of trees surrounding the now small pool of water.

Just as it had been a mere five days ago, the water and the surrounding area is empty, devoid of almost any life at all. He takes cautious steps forward, eyes flicking around him constantly to see if there is anyone hiding nearby. When he doesn’t see anyone, he calls his magic forth and looks through the dark trees with more ease. Satisfied that he is in fact all alone, he approaches the water and falls to his knees along the banks. The grass is cool and damp under his knees, and he can feel the fabric of his jeans grow wet, but he doesn’t care.

Leaning forward, he rests his hands on the ground, digging his fingers into the grass and the slowly drying mud underneath. He lets his head fall down between his shoulders, chin almost coming to rest on his chest. He tries to focus on merely breathing, but it keeps getting caught in his throat as he remembers all the glimpses of Arthur that he had seen over the last five days. The way his magic would beg him to look up, and how he would refuse to, all too aware of what would be waiting for him if he did. When his thoughts finally drift back to the feel of Arthur’s body pressed up against his, feeling _so breathtakingly real_ , he finally snaps.

Rearing back, he glares up at the dark sky and yells, “Why are you doing this? What do you want from me?” He gets no response except his own voice echoing back to him. He yells in frustration, feeling the tension coiling in his body like a sprint, getting ready to burst out in a furious storm.

“Have I not suffered enough?” He yells again, voice anguished and cracking slightly. “I have been alone for so long, why couldn’t you just leave me in peace? Why torture me so?” He adds loudly, pleadingly. When he still receives no reply but his own echoed words, he lets out a strangled cry, and falls back forward onto his hands and knees.

He can feel his power building inside him, crashing against the walls he had built long ago to hold it in. To cage it. Those walls were crumbling now. He can feel the cracks forming, fissuring out and growing in size. His body heaves and he almost lurches face first into the water, barely managing to catch himself in time. A loud _boom_ reverberates through his skull, and he isn’t sure if the sound was just in his head, or if it had actually resounded throughout the world around him as well. His focus soon shifts to other pressing matters as he feels his magic surging up and bursting out of him freely.

A strong, roaring wind whips up through the clearing, battering the surrounding trees until branches snap off and sail away. The water before him starts bubbling and splashing up onto its surrounding banks, spraying up high enough to drench him where he’s kneeling. Only it doesn’t. He somehow stays perfectly dry. A crack of thunder sounds overhead, and the howling wind picks up in intensity. All that’s missing now is a downpouring of rain, but it never comes.

“What do you want from me?” He screams at the sky again, voice loud and booming and demanding. “Have I not given enough? Have I not lost everything already? What more do you want?” The wind is whipping his hair so hard that strands are stinging his eyes, lashing against his ears.

“Answer me!” He bellows before a violent shudder runs through his body and he falls forward. The wind dies down, the cracks of thunder lessening to mere rumbles instead. The pool of water finally settles, stray leaves and branches floating along its surface. He lets out a choked off sob, and curls further into himself, trying desperately to just catch his breath.

“Please.” He begs in a hoarse whisper. “Tell me what I’m supposed to do. I’m tired of being lonely. I can’t wait any longer. It’s too hard, and it’s been too long. Please.” He barely recognizes the words coming out of his mouth as his own. Never has he heard himself sound so lost and helpless.

His magic slowly settles back into his skin, almost soothing his frayed nerves. He thinks back over what Kilgharrah has said. How Arthur would return when Albion’s need was the greatest. Had that time not come and gone several times over by now? How many atrocities had Merlin witnessed, sure that his King would return _this time_ , only to be let down? How long did he have to suffer through this torture before he finally didn’t have to anymore? How many people did he have to lose, over and over again, before he was deemed worthy of Arthur’s return?

He leans forward and stares despondently into the water. His eyes focus on his slightly rippling reflection. He barely recognizes himself. His eyes look glassy and dead. Maybe he was actually dead, and this was his own personal hell, his punishment for not saving Arthur like he was supposed to. He was supposed to protect Arthur, and he had failed. Maybe this was what he deserved.

His breath hitches as he sees Arthur’s face appear beside his own in his reflection. He looks over his shoulder, but there’s no one there. When he looks back, Arthur is still there, staring at him with sad, pain filled eyes. Merlin longs to reach out and touch him, but knows that he can’t.

“I’m sorry.” He whispers brokenly to Arthur’s reflection. “I failed you. I had one purpose, and I let you down, and now you’re lost forever, and it’s all my fault. Everything that we were supposed to do, all we were supposed to create, is gone, and it’s all my fault. I’m sorry, Arthur.”

He watches in surprise and confusion as Arthur’s face contorts, eyes filling with frustration. He gestures vaguely, but Merlin has no idea what he wants. He closes his eyes and looks away, unable to look upon Arthur’s face any longer. It hurts too much. His thoughts once again drift over what was happening, and why he deserved it. Even if Arthur’s death had ultimately been his fault, was the punishment he was receiving really justified? A loud splash makes his eyes fly back open.

The water is waving and rippling where something had hit it, distorting Arthur’s now decidedly annoyed face. Merlin would almost burst out laughing at the familiarity of that expression if the situation were less heavy with pain and despair. Arthur gesticulates with his hands again, face scrunching up slightly, and Merlin heaves a sigh.

“I don’t know what you want.” He growls. “I have nothing left to give, leave me alone.” Arthur scowls back, and Merlin gets to his feet, intent on leaving. He didn’t know why he had gone against his better judgement and returned here anyway. He doesn’t get far before a hand on his shoulder jolts him to a halt. When he whirls around, there’s no one there.

“What?” He cries, chest filling with an overwhelming sense of hopelessness. “Please just stop. Let me go. I can’t be haunted like this anymore. It’s killing me.” He begs into the nothingness surrounding him. He feels a nudge between his shoulder blades, urging him back to the water, but he pushes back, resistant to return to his reflection, and therefore Arthur’s. He feels that nudge again, more insistent this time, and actually takes a stumbling step forward.

Reluctantly, he returns to the water’s edge, sinking back onto his knees. Arthur’s reflection once again appears next to his own, and Merlin blinks back tears. God, he missed Arthur so much. A myriad of emotions rushes over him, and he gasps at the sheer intensity of everything he’s feeling. His chest constricts as this throat clogs up with barely held back tears.

“I just want you back.” Merlin hears himself whisper into the darkness, and Arthur’s eyes soften slightly. “I want to be able to tell you that I love you, and smack you upside your gorgeous head when you just smirk smugly at me. I want to be able to talk to you again, to finally have someone I can tell about my life, all the things I’ve done while waiting for you.” He squeezes his eyes shut and swallows. “I don’t want to be alone anymore. I don’t want to wait anymore.”

He slumps heavily in his spot, finally daring to meet the reflection of Arthur’s eyes. To his great surprise, they look suspiciously shiny with tears. Merlin opens his mouth, inhaling sharply, to add something more, but snaps his jaws closed, uncertain. He doesn’t just _want_ Arthur to come back. He _needs_ him to. He just doesn’t know how to say it. A soft breeze ruffles his hair, enveloping him gently.

He shivers slightly, and finally admits out loud, “I need you, Arthur. God, I need you to come back. More than I’ve ever needed you before.” His voice is quiet, so low that he can barely hear the words himself, but he watches with fascination as Arthur smiles softly and nods before disappearing. Merlin then panics, reaching out to touch the surface of the water.

“Arthur?” He asks. Only his frantic eyes stare back at him. “Arthur?!” He repeats, louder and more broken. Where had he gone?

That soft breeze from before returns, sweeping through the clearing. His magic stirs again, and he lets it out, feels it mingle happily with the wind. A gentle sound fills the air around him, almost like a hushed whispering. It slowly gets louder, but not any more distinguishable, and he gasps softly as he feels his magic start swirling around something. Something that feels very much alive. The feeling grows and grows until it crescendoes and bursts out throughout the clearing.

Merlin stumbles backwards as his magic snaps back into him, like a released elastic band. He’s not even sure when he had risen to his feet. A gentle hand steadies his back, to keep him from tripping and falling backwards, and he doesn’t dare to breath. He doesn’t dare to hope.

“Finally.” He hears whispered in his ear, a breath ruffling his hair. “You took your sweet time, didn’t you, _Mer_ lin.”

This time, Merlin whips around quickly, and there he is. But it can’t be, because it hasn’t been before. Tentatively, he reaches out to touch Arthur’s chest, and meets a very solid, warm, and real body. Arthur reaches up to wrap his fingers around Merlin’s wrist, and Merlin chokes and passes out.


	5. Chapter 5

Merlin blinks awake slowly, drawing a heavy arm across his eyes to battle the ray of sun filtering in between his curtains. He heaves a sigh, trying to focus his brain and remember if he has to work later or not. His sluggish mind revs like a stalled engine for a moment before informing him that, no, he doesn’t work. He has three days off. He stretches languidly, reaching his arms above his head to brush against the headboard. His head is pounding slightly, in a dull throbbing kind of way, and his entire body is aching. He wrinkles his nose in confusion for a moment before sitting bolt upright in bed, the events of the previous night rushing back in a blur.

“Wha?” He says out loud, quiet despite being alone, as he looks around the four familiar walls of his bedroom. He had sworn that he had left his flat last night, had gone to Avalon to satisfy his magic, had seen... Was it all just an incredibly lucid dream? Had he imagined _him_ coming back? Burying his head in his hands, he lets out a soft, pathetic groan. How long did he seriously have to endure this?

After a moment to collect himself, Merlin swings his legs over the side of his bed and stands up. His body protests the movement, both his achey muscles and his queasy stomach. He runs a hand over his face, trying to find his resolve. He moves slowly around his room, pulling on baggy lounge pants and a rather threadbare tee shirt. Ignoring his phone, and the undoubtedly numerous texts from his friends, he opens his bedroom door and steps out into the hall.

He yawns as he starts down the hall toward his kitchen, but it gets interrupted by his own squawk of surprise when he glances over toward his living room and finds someone sleeping on his sofa. He stumbles backwards in shock, slamming roughly into the wall, as he takes in the mop of blond hair resting on a cushion propped against the arm of the sofa. Bleary blue eyes open and lift to look at him, clearly having been woken by Merlin’s noise.

“Arthur?” Merlin breathes softly. Had last night _not_ been a dream after all? Then how had he gotten back here? He didn’t remember coming home.

“Merlin.” Arthur replies tiredly, voice scratchy and thick, just like it always had been in the morning. A pang of deep longing jolts through Merlin’s stomach. He stays immobile by the wall, even as Arthur slowly sits up, lifting a hand to rub at his scruffy hair.

“Is—are you real?” Merlin heard himself ask, voice shaky and fumbling.

Arthur looks over at him, blue eyes piercing. “Quite. I thought we had established that last night, but apparently not.”

Merlin’s mind whirls, trying to remember any specific details from the night before. He remembers being at the club with his friends, then walking to the Lake. After that, it’s all a blur of wind, and noise, and reflections in the water.

“Last night?” He parrots, terribly lost.

Arthur sighs. “Yes. However, you are clearly no better at holding your alcohol than you were before, so it seems we’ll be going over it all again.” He almost sounds fond. Amused.

“Right.” Merlin nods. “How did we get here? The last thing I remember was...” His mind stutters to a halt as he remembers lips against his ear, whispering, as soft breaths ruffled his hair.

Arthur cocks his head, the ghost of a smirk playing at his lips. “I had to carry you, for the most part. Thankfully, I was able to wake you up and keep you coherent enough to give me directions. Once we got here, you told me that ghosts weren’t allowed, and then wandered off to where I suppose your chambers are.”

Merlin stares at Arthur blankly. He does not remember any of that. His mind sticks on one part of that sentence, and he looks back up at Arthur, unaware as to when he had dropped his gaze back to the floor.

“What do you mean _‘woke up’_. Why wasn’t I awake?” He asks. That probably shouldn’t have been the part of Arthur’s answer he had gotten stuck on, but it seemed like the safest place to start. Arthur’s grin seems to grow gleefully, and Merlin feels his heart sink a little. He wasn’t going to like this answer, whatever it was.

“You passed out.” Arthur announces. His face scrunches a bit as he wrinkles his nose. “Although, I should maybe take offence to that, seeing as you seemed fine until you saw me.” He muses thoughtfully.

Merlin has no idea what to think or how to feel. How was this even possible? How was Arthur standing here, in his living room, having a conversation with him right now?

“Honestly, I have no real idea.” Arthur says, and Merlin jumps, not having been aware that he had spoken out loud. Arthur takes a tentative step closer, eyes and face suddenly serious. “All I remember was seeing your face slowly slip away, and then I came to next to a glorified puddle of water, with your voice calling my name ringing in my ears.”

Merlin startles slightly at that, not having expected that answer. “What? How?” He asks, voice laced with confusion.

Arthur shrugs unhelpfully. “I saw you at the lake, before, but you couldn’t seem to see me. It was like you had somehow accidentally woken me up, but didn’t do it right. I’ve been trying to find you ever since.”

Merlin gapes at him, at a total loss for words. How could he have _accidentally_ woken Arthur up, brought him back, when all the times he had tried _intentionally_ hadn’t worked? And how could he have done it _wrong_? Surely if his subconscious had risen Arthur, it would have done it right.

“Wait, what do you mean you’ve been looking for me ever since? I’ve been seeing _you_ everywhere I go. Surely that goes both ways.” Merlin demands, headache growing in intensity. He rubs at it feebly.

Arthur’s face contorts. “I don’t know. It’s complicated, and I don’t know how to really explain it.” He says frustratedly. “It was almost like I was stuck at the lake, tethered to it somehow. I could leave, but only for short amounts of time. No matter what I did, I always ended up getting pulled back there. It was very infuriating.” He answers slowly.

Merlin nods, trying to make sense of all that was happening. “That would explain why you kept disappearing. I thought I was losing my mind.” He muses. Arthur barks out a short, humourless laugh.

“I thought I was losing _my_ mind. I could never properly interact with anything around me. People saw me. I know they did, but I could never talk to any of them, or touch anything properly, no matter how hard I tired. It was like I was there, but not fully there.” Arthur says, running a hand up into his hair to tug harshly on the golden strands. “This isn’t making any sense.” He grumbles softly.

Merlin, frankly, has to agree with that particular statement. None of this is making any sense whatsoever. But how often had anything in his life been logical? When you’re born with magic, able to move things with your mind before you can even talk, and then proceed to apparently become immortal, the impossible tended to seem more attainable.

“What about last night?” Merlin asks. “If you couldn’t ever touch anything, how did you touch me at the club?” He can still feel a ghost of those lips against his throat.

“Ah.” Arthur says, looking away almost bashfully. Was he blushing? “I’ve thought about that, and I’ve only come up with one possible reason. But for it to make sense, I need to know something first.” At Merlin’s nods, he continues, “Did you believe that I was never going to return? That I was gone forever?”

Merlin chews on his lip and looks away from Arthur’s intense stare. “You’ve been gone for a very long time.” Is all Merlin says.

Arthur closes the distance between them slowly, settling his hands on his shoulders. “That’s why I think I couldn’t properly interact with the world around me. Something in you brought me back, but you had lost your faith in yourself, doubted that it could be done, so it only half worked. Last night, at the club, I think I was able to touch you because for a short moment, you had hope again. Don’t ask me how, or why, but you did. As soon as you pulled away, however, I was shot back to that blasted puddle of water.”

Merlin mulls that over, and decides that it’s a likely enough theory. He doubted he would be able to come up with anything better. It was times like these that Merlin desperately missed having Gaius in his life. He never had really found him again. Not for a very long time anyway.

“What about the rest of last night?” He asks softly, looking up into Arthur’s eyes. “What happened to make you come back fully?” Merlin honestly couldn’t think of a single thing that he had done that would’ve, or could’ve, finished bringing Arthur back properly. Kilgharrah’s words echo in his ears for a moment, and it tingles something in his mind.

“I had a hunch,” Arthur says slowly after a moment, “that you had to somehow restore your hope in me returning, even if you weren’t consciously aware that you had. I had thought that when you admitted to missing me, to wanting me back, that it would work. When it didn’t, I realized that you merely wanting me back wasn’t enough.”

“When Albion’s need is greatest.” Merlin breathes out in wonder.

Arthur lifts an eyebrow in confusion. “What?”

Merlin fixes his gaze back on Arthur. “It’s what Kilgharrah told me. That you would rise again when Albion’s need was the greatest. Since I’m the last thing left of whatever Albion was or could’ve been, I couldn’t just _want_ you to come back...”

“You had to _need_ me to.” Arthur finishes for him softly. Merlin ducks his head and blushes. Never had be felt so transparent.

“Apparently.” Merlin says, suddenly feeling extremely self-conscious. A shroud of silence envelopes them, and Merlin shifts uneasily, unsure of what to expect. He had come to terms with his feelings for Arthur enough years ago for it not to be new information. For Arthur, however, if he read between the lines properly, this was a very new revelation.

A gentle hand cups his chin and lifts it up, forcing him to once again meet Arthur’s intense gaze. The emotions currently swimming in those eyes is new to Merlin. True, he had probably known Arthur better than almost anyone else, but Arthur had never been one to be overly emotional, preferring to keep things close to his chest to avoid being hurt. The open vulnerability in Arthur’s eyes right now is almost unsettling for Merlin.

“Everything you said last night, did you mean it?” Arthur asks softly, voice almost hinging on desperation, like he _needs_ Merlin’s answer to be a _yes_. Like if his answers isn’t a resounding _yes_ , Arthur’s entire world may very well fall apart right then and there.

Merlin tries to go back over everything that he had said the previous night. Everything is so hazy. He focuses harder, feeling his magic pulling at the cobwebs in his head, trying to find out what exactly Arthur is asking. Slowly, things come back into focus. Yelling and demanding answers. Pleading to have his friend back. Admitting just how much he needed Arthur to finally return. Admitting to how truly alone he felt in the world. Admitting that he loved Arthur.

Merlin inhales sharply, focusing back on the tense face before him. “Yes.” He replies. “All of it.” He admits, heart hammering against his sternum.

Arthur exhales softly, relief flooding his face and relaxing his features. “Good.” He breathes, mouth once again curving gracefully into a breathtakingly beautiful smile. Merlin feels his own features crease with confusion. Good? What did he mean _‘good’_? His answer comes a second later when surprisingly soft lips meet his.

Merlin’s breath hitches at the sudden contact, mind going blank and body thankfully taking over. He melts into Arthur, kissing him back gently. He had only ever dreamed of this happening. Had watched him with Gwen in the past and always wondered what kissing Arthur would be like. Would he be demanding? Dominating? Taking whatever he pleased? Or would he be gracious and giving? Gentle and sweet? He never thought he would ever actually get an answer to that, back then, unthinkable question.

Arthur presses closer, crowding him into the wall as his kitten soft kisses grow slowly more forceful. A strong hand comes up to curl possessively around Merlin’s neck. Merlin lets himself go pliant, allowing Arthur to push and pull him as he pleased, moving wherever Arthur’s hands asked him to go. After not quite enough, in Merlin’s opinion, Arthur pulls back.

If Merlin thought that Arthur had looked vulnerable before, that was nothing compared to right now as Arthur stares helplessly into Merlin’s eyes. The man was, for possibly the first time in his life, practically wearing his heart on his sleeve. That thought makes Merlin’s heart stutter and somersault in his chest.

“Arthur?” Merlin breathes. Arthur’s eyes flick back and forth between Merlin’s own, studying something intently in his eyes. Merlin holds his breath, and just lets Arthur look for whatever it is he wants to find. He lets himself go, trying to be as non-verbally open as he can possibly be, not wanting Arthur to withdraw and shutter himself away again.

Eventually, Arthur seems to find what he’s looking for, because he takes a fortifying breath and says, “I love you too, Merlin. It’s always been you.”

Merlin almost goes weak at the knees. Never had he even dreamed that he would ever hear those words leave Arthur’s lips. True to form, he opens his mouth and blurts stupidly, “What about Gwen?”

To his surprise, Arthur smiles fondly. “I loved Guinevere, it’s true. I cared about her very deeply, and I have no regrets about having made her my Queen.” He says.

“But?” Merlin pushes when Arthur pauses, not entirely sure where Arthur was going with this.

“But,” Arthur continues, “you were always there for me. No matter what I was facing, I could always count on having you at my side. It was... comforting, even when I wrongly assumed that you were just running off to hide when you were actually saving my life without me knowing. I grew to depend on you, to trust you, more than anyone else. It was you that I longed for when I needed comfort. It feels a little wrong now to have used Gwen in your place, but my feelings for her were genuine. Just not as strong as the ones for you that I was forced to pretend didn’t exist.”

Merlin is speechless. He had always thought that Arthur’s behaviour towards him back in Camelot was merely out of trust. Out of a bond formed between friends over a lengthy period of time. Never would he have imagined that Arthur had secretly felt as strongly about him as he had about the King, even if he never fully understood those feelings until long after Arthur’s passing.

“And now?” He asks, still struggling to keep up with everything that has happened over the last twelve or so hours.

“And now,” Arthur says, “I intend to make up for lost time. I am clearly no longer a King. I have no people to rule, or take care of. No one to worry about as far as appearances are concerned. So, unless you are unwilling, I see no reason why I should have to ignore how I truly feel about you.”

Merlin entire body softens as he smiles brightly. “No.” He breathes, still slightly in mild shock. “I have no objections.”

Arthur smiles back, all crinkly eyes and slightly crooked teeth, and Merlin doesn’t think he’s ever seen anything so beautiful. Especially with the beam of sunlight filtering in through the windows and highlighting Arthur’s hair like a golden halo. He leans in slowly for another kiss, and Merlin’s ready this time. He meets him halfway, weaving his fingers through Arthur’s hair, and holding on like his life depends on it. It quickly turns filthy, all tongues and teeth, and when they finally separate, they’re both panting.

Once Merlin feels like he has enough breath in his lungs to talk, he says, “I’m really glad you’re back. I’ve missed you so much. A lot has changed while you’ve been gone, and I’m happy that I finally have someone I know to share it with.”

Arthur looks around the flat with a curious look in his eyes. “Yes. I had a look around while you were passed out in your bed last night. Everything is very strange. And you have a cat.”

Merlin snorts a hastily aborted laugh. “Yeah, but aren’t you lucky to have me around to help you? And Aithusa. I think she likes you.” He adds, glancing down at the cat now weaving her way between their ankles. When he looks back up with a grin, he finds Arthur already watching him with a soft expression on his face.

“Yes, I am very lucky.” He says, and Merlin feels his cheeks flush red. “To have you, not the cat. She seemed to think I was her personal pillow all night.”

Now Merlin _does_ laugh. Heartily and very much unashamedly. It gets quickly cut off by Arthur mumbling something along the lines of _‘shut up’_ against his lips, and Merlin has never been more agreeable to follow that particular demand. 


	6. Chapter 6

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Warning: This chapter’s sole purpose is to provide tooth-rotting fluff. Read on at your own risk 😉

Arthur had been back for a week, and it had quite possibly been the best week of Merlin’s life. He spent his three days off showing Arthur around, introducing him to as many things this new world had to offer that he possibly could in only three whole days. After that first night, Merlin had insisted that Arthur share his bed with him. He had slept on his sofa before, and he knew that it certainly wasn’t good enough for his King. His bed was plenty big enough for two people to comfortably share, and when he woke up in the morning, snuggled warmly in Arthur’s arms, he almost wanted to freeze time and just stay in that moment for as long as possible. He probably would have had Arthur not chosen that moment to wake up and complain about wanting breakfast.

The first day that Merlin had to return to work, he left Arthur with the television on, a lengthy reminder on how to use the microwave, and unlimited access to all the books he had in his flat. Without Arthur having a phone himself, Merlin had no way to contact Arthur throughout his shift, and by the time he was able to go home, he was antsy. A very sullen Arthur was sitting on the sofa waiting for him when he finally returned. He was ordered to never leave Arthur alone again. The next day, Merlin took Arthur to work with him and left him sitting in the far back corner with his phone open to the YouTube app. Arthur had barely moved or said a word all day.

This easy routine unfortunately ran out on the third day that Merlin pulled Arthur to work and shoved him down at his usual table. Arthur took Merlin’s phone, as well as the book on modern day England that Merlin had bought him a few days prior, but instead of using either one, sat and pouted as he looked around the small café interior. Merlin had a feeling that he was getting bored.

“Here.” Merlin says, sliding a mug of black coffee, a tray of cream and sugar, and a plate with a warmed up blueberry muffin onto the table in front of Arthur. Arthur glances at him before grabbing the mug and taking a sip. He immediately pulls a face and sets it down, hands reaching for the cream and sugar. Merlin watches with equal parts fascination and horror as Arthur proceeds to dump spoonfuls of both into his coffee. The resulting drink is so pale, it could barely be considered actual coffee anymore.

Arthur takes a sip and hums, giving Merlin a proper smile. “Thank you, Merlin.” He says, reaching out to brush his fingertips over Merlin’s wrist. That was another new thing that Merlin hadn’t expected. Arthur was quite tactile, always preferring to have some form of physical contact with Merlin at all times. When that wasn’t possible, then he at least wanted to be within arms reach. Merlin figures that it probably had something to do with the fact that Arthur felt out of place here. Everything he knew had changed. There was a new way of doing most things now, and Arthur was a little overwhelmed and lost at times. He was relying heavily on Merlin to do simple day to day tasks.

Merlin pulls his hand back until he can lace their fingers together, palms warm against each other’s. He squeezes Arthur’s hand, giving him a sunny smile. Arthur smiles back, reluctant to let go of Merlin’s hand as he starts to pull away. Merlin chuckles and lightly cuffs Arthur’s head, earning himself a glare.

“I have to get back to work, Prat. Eat your muffin.” He pushes the plate closer to Arthur as his hand slips free. Blueberry, he had learned, was Arthur’s favourite type of muffin.

“Fine.” Arthur grumbles, pulling the plate closer. “How much longer will we be here?” He asks, fingers fiddling idly with the small piece he ripped off.

Merlin snorts. “We only really just got here. I have most of my shift left. Have your breakfast and abuse my phone.” He turns his back with a smile as Arthur wrinkles his nose at the orders. When Merlin glances back once he’s reached the counter, half of the muffin is gone, and Arthur is sipping his coffee as he slowly flips the pages of his book.

Amelia nudges him gently in the ribs, ripping his attention away from... what exactly _was_ Arthur? He turns to look at her, meeting her soft smile and twinkling eyes. She opens her mouth to say something, but gets interrupted by a customer walking in. She holds up a finger, telling Merlin to wait a moment, as she goes to the till to do her job. Merlin listens in, filling the order as quickly as possible. When the customer leaves, Amelia turns back to him.

“It’s good to see you so happy, Merlin.” She says, drawing him in for a short hug. When they pull apart, Merlin’s eyes are naturally drawn toward Arthur, who is now playing idly with the empty muffin wrapper, pulling it into small pieces. Merlin sighs at the mess he has to clean up now, but it’s laced with fondness.

“I am happy.” Merlin muses. “Thanks for letting me bring him here. I was genuinely worried that if I left him alone at my flat again, I would return to find the thing trashed. He’s not exactly the cleanest bloke around.”

Amelia laughs, looking over at Arthur as well. “Yes, I can see that.” She agrees, also wincing at the mess surrounding Arthur. “And of course you can bring him here. I may not know exactly what happened between you two, but I can tell that he’s important to you, and that you want to keep an eye on him.”

Merlin gives her a small smile that doesn’t last. Truth be told, Merlin wanted Arthur close to him just as much as Arthur wanted Merlin nearby. He couldn’t quite dispel the fear that all this was just a dream. That one morning he was going to wake up alone, and Arthur would still be lost to him. He irrationally thought that if he kept Arthur as close as possible, that he would be safe from disappearing again.

He gives a small shrug, glancing at Amelia quickly before looking away. “I do want to keep an eye on him. I can’t lose him again. I don’t think I’d survive it twice.”

Amelia pulls him into another hug. He feels Arthur’s eyes on him, and looks over to find Arthur’s brow creased with a frown. That was another thing. Arthur was apparently the jealous type. Merlin grins at him, getting a scowl in reply before Arthur turns back to his book. He knows that Arthur isn’t actually annoyed or angry. He also knows that Arthur is aware that Amelia and Merlin are just friends. Arthur just isn’t used to really sharing Merlin. Back in Camelot, Merlin’s sole focus had been just keeping Arthur alive. Now, Merlin had fewer grand destinies, and more distractions. Like other friends and work.

Merlin continues to shirk his duties routinely throughout the day, plopping down into the seat across from Arthur and having short conversations. He gets teasing smiles from Amelia each time, and fond comments from Arthur about how _‘nothing has really changed’_ regarding his work ethic. He shuts Arthur up by pressing a soft, chaste kiss to his lips before returning to his proper duties. By the time his shift ends, Arthur is getting horribly fidgety.

“Come on, lets go.” Merlin says as he grabs Arthur’s arm and pulls him out of his chair. Arthur heaves a sigh of relief, quickly shifting their grip so their hands are clasped tightly together. Merlin bites back a smile as they slip out the door.

“Bye, guys!” Amelia calls from the counter, still having an hour left in her shift.

Arthur waves back. “Bye! It was lovely seeing you again.”

Merlin laughs, Amelia joining in, and pulls him down the street towards home. The walk takes longer than usual because Arthur keeps stopping to look at things, random question spilling out of his mouth, quietly so as not to earn him funny looks. Merlin finds that he doesn’t really mind.

“Can we order pizza?” Arthur asks as they step into Merlin’s flat. _Their_ flat.

Merlin glances at him as he pulls off his coat. “Yeah, sure.” He pulls his phone from his pocket as he toes off his trainers, dialling the pizza place nearby from memory and ordering a plain pepperoni pizza for the two of them. He joins Arthur on the sofa as he hangs up.

Arthur immediately pulls him into his side, tucking his nose into Merlin’s neck. Merlin sighs and closes his eyes, content to just _exist_ with Arthur beside him. He’s almost fallen asleep by the time there is a knock on his door. Arthur laughs as he jumps, and pushes him off, telling him to hurry up and pay the man. Merlin rolls his eyes good-naturedly, but does as he’s told.

When Merlin closes the door and turns back, Arthur is in the kitchen, pulling out plates and glasses, extracting a bottle of wine from the fridge that Merlin hadn’t even known was in there. He raises an eyebrow with a chuckle.

“Wine? Really?” He asks as he sets the pizza box down on the table. “You really think that’s a good idea?”

Arthur laughs and sets the bottle down to pull Merlin against him. “I’m here to make sure you drink in moderation, and stop you from wandering off to random pools of water.”

Merlin grins. “Hey, if I hadn’t gone wandering off in the night, you wouldn’t be here.” He replies cheekily.

Arthur hums. “No, I suppose you’re right. However, I do feel the need to prevent you from wandering off and returning with any more boyfriends. Not that I think you really would.”

Merlin pauses at Arthur’s words, staring at him in wonder. They hadn’t talked about whatever was between them since the morning after Arthur’s return. They had admitted to having feelings for each other, but had never placed a label on what exactly they were doing. Merlin hadn’t wanted to push and accidentally push Arthur away instead.

“Boyfriends?” He asks softly.

Arthur looks panicked for a moment. “Uh, yes. I read the term on Google. Is it not correct?”

Arthur looks so genuinely concerned that he had got it wrong that Merlin almost wants to laugh. Thankfully, he manages to repress the urge. Instead, he surges forward and captures Arthur’s lips in a warm kiss. His _boyfriend’s_ lips. Arthur makes a startled sound, but readily kisses back, only looking mildly confused when Merlin pulls away as abruptly as he had closed the distance between them.

“That’s definitely correct. I just didn’t know that you were ready for that yet, that’s all.” Merlin replies, suddenly feeling bashful and sheepish.

Arthur’s face soften into a loving smile. “Well, according to the... _internet_ , was it? That’s what you call two people who are in love, and are exclusively together, but not married.”

Merlin grins, huffing out a laugh. “Sounds like you’ve been doing quite a bit of research on the subject.”

Now it’s Arthur turn to blush profusely. “Let’s just eat our pizza.” He grumbles, letting Merlin go and turning back to grab the wine glasses in one hand and the bottle in the other. Merlin manages to catch a glimpse of Arthur’s smile as he turns away, his heart skipping a beat or two at how lovely it is.

For a bit, they eat in silence, each lost in their own thoughts. Merlin keeps shooting Arthur furtive glances, looking away when Arthur happens to look back at the same time. It’s not until he’s through two full glasses of wine and three slices of pizza that he finds his courage to talk.

“I’d like that, you know. To be called your boyfriend. Officially, I mean.” He says. Arthur looks up at him silently. “And you certainly never have to worry about me ever wandering off and bringing home anyone else. You’re kind of it for me.”

Arthur stares at him calculatingly for a moment before breaking out into one of his usually beautiful and brilliant smiles. Merlin’s heart squeezes at the sight of it, and he knows. He _just_ _knows_ that, no matter what, he will protect Arthur with his life, just as he had before. That he will do anything, give anything, that Arthur asks. Without hesitation.

“I’m glad to hear that.” Arthur says. “Although, I hope you know that I’ve never actually expected you to run off and find someone else. I never questioned your loyalty. Ever.”

“I know.” Merlin muses. “Now, lets go finish this wine in front of the telly. I want to cuddle my boyfriend while I watch stupid television.” He says, pushing away from the table and getting to his feet.

Arthur follows him up, but before he can move toward the living room, Arthur pulls him back into his arms. Arthur nuzzles his cheek softly before turning his head fully and placing a kiss to the corner of his mouth. Merlin sighs and kisses him properly, marvelling at the fact that he gets to do this now. He can’t help but question how quickly Arthur had accepted everything, but decides not to look a gift horse in the mouth.

“I love you, Merlin.” He says earnestly, sincerely, as they pull apart.

“I love you, too.” Merlin replies without hesitation.

Arthur nods slightly. “Come on then. You mentioned wanting to cuddle your amazing boyfriend.” Merlin snorts and swats at the back of Arthur’s head, which Arthur dodges much too easily. Clearly centuries of being at rest did nothing to his reflexes.

“I don’t remember saying _amazing_ , you Clotpole.” Merlin jests. Arthur just grins and shrugs.

“It was implied. Now, come on.” Arthur says firmly, grabbing Merlin’s wrist in the hand not clutched to the half empty bottle of wine, and pulling him into the living room. He shoves Merlin down on the sofa before going back to the kitchen to fetch their wine glasses. Merlin has the television on to some mind-numbing reality tv show when Arthur returns. Arthur makes no comment, just sits down beside Merlin on the sofa. Merlin immediately curls into Arthur’s side, sighing contentedly as he feels Arthur’s arm curl around his side and tug him impossibly closer. He turns his head and smiles into Arthur’s shoulder.

They sit in silence for a bit, content to just watch tv and sip their wine. Once the bottle is empty, however, Merlin starts to get bored. Arthur turns to him with a raised eyebrow as Merlin let’s his hands start to wander, just a little bit. When Merlin looks up at him with a grin, Arthur just rolls his eyes.

“You know,” he muses teasingly, “if you’re sick of this, you can always change the channel.”

Merlin hums. “I really don’t think what I want is going to be on the television.” He says as innocently as possible. Arthur sees right through him, however, giving him a knowing smile.

“Is that so?” Arthur asks. Merlin hums again, shrugging his lean shoulders. “Well, in that case, there’s no point in having this on anymore, is there?” He grabs the remote and pushes a few buttons until the tv grows dark and silent. Merlin holds his breath as Arthur turns back to look at him.

“Now what?” He asks quietly.

“Now,” Arthur says as he shifts to hover over Merlin’s frame slightly, “you can tell me exactly what you’re in the mood for instead.”

Arthur’s downright predatory gaze makes Merlin shiver. He lets out a rather breathy exhale before leaning up to press his lips to Arthur’s. Arthur is quick to kiss back, sucking on Merlin’s plump lower lip just enough to make Merlin moan softly before pulling away. Merlin chases his lips, groaning in frustration when Arthur pulls back further. Arthur has the audacity to chuckle as he rests a finger across Merlin’s lips.

“Not here. I’d rather do this with you the first time somewhere much more comfortable.” It takes Merlin’s brain a minute to properly understand Arthur’s words, and when he finally does, he shoves at Arthur’s shoulders, pushing him back so he can get to his feet.

“Come on then.” Merlin says, gripping Arthur’s hand and pulling him up behind him. Arthur laughs as he stumbles along behind his boyfriend, allowing himself to get pulled along to their bedroom. Once there, Merlin happily submits, this time, and allows Arthur to push him backward onto the bed. He was finally done waiting.


End file.
